


Sandpaper Love

by mtac_archivist



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M, Not Episode Related, Not a Crossover, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-26
Updated: 2006-08-26
Packaged: 2019-03-02 06:19:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13312272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mtac_archivist/pseuds/mtac_archivist
Summary: "She's softer than sandpaper and her smile is so much better than a hangover."





	Sandpaper Love

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Jessi, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [ MTAC](https://fanlore.org/wiki/MTAC), an archive of NCIS fanfiction which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after August 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator (and this work is still attached to the archivist account), please contact me using the e-mail address on [ the MTAC collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/mtac/profile)

  
Author's notes: I haven't really been writing anything for the past few months, so I've been working on this little series for about two weeks now, and hopefully it'll get me back into Kate/Gibbs enough to work more on Strawberry Wine.  


* * *

He occasionally has bad cases. Ones that dig deep and kill him inside, ones that rip him to pieces, and the rare ones that destroy every bit of him until he finds the truth.

He used to have a boat and a bottle of Jack. He’d sand and smooth until his hands bled from the effort, beating out heartbreak and hatred into long, even pulls and pushes of sandy paper. Then he’d drink straight from the bottle in lengthy gulps as fast as he could bear the burning down his throat.

Now he’s got her.

She’ll open her door and he’ll look at her like he’s the saddest man in the world, just for a tiny taste of her lips. She’ll let him in and make him the richest coffee he’s ever had in the biggest cup he’s ever seen. He doesn’t talk and she doesn’t listen, cause talking just takes all the fun out of reading someone’s eyes and showing care in the way you lay your hand over theirs.

She’s softer than sandpaper and her smile is so much better than a hangover.

He never says I Love You, and she never expects him to stay it; it’s just a mutual more than friend kind of affiliation, with sweet kisses and lingering stares. And time after time, he’s always found his way to her front door and she’s always found the strength to let him in.


End file.
